


Helpless

by sassygayseraphim (sonata_de_morte)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Appropriate Angst, Companionable Snark, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5429474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonata_de_morte/pseuds/sassygayseraphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief glimpses into the ever growing relationship between Vieva Trevelyan and Commander Cullen while the world goes to hell around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spirit Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> These are taken from my tumblr and put here for convenience. They go up in the order I write them, which is not necessarily the order they happen in.

Cullen doesn’t talk to her sometimes. it’s not a cold shoulder, even though it feels like it, but him trying–failing–to spare her the worst of himself. What he sees as the worst of himself, at the very least. His past, the nightmares, the things he can’t stop seeing, the way his hair will sometimes be damp with sweat, face pale, shadows under his eyes, hands shaking, attention elsewhere. She sees it, even when he’s desperate for her not to, and it drives her to madness sometimes. 

“He’s  _impossible_ ,” she sighs, sitting up on one of the high walls with Cole in the early evening. 

“ _S_ _uffering_ ,” Cole breathes back. “Hot and cold, sharp, aching, so many, so afraid. What if i can’t do this? What if i fail them–fail  _her_? Maker,  _please_  don’t let me–”

Vieva holds up a hand, cutting off the litany, and Cole falls obligingly silent. “I  _know_ ,” she says. “I know it’s bad sometimes, but he’s so Maker damned determined to be strong.” 

“He’s the commander,” Cole replies, for one speaking his own thoughts instead of someone else’s. 

“Yes, but he’s also a person, Cole. and people need people. There’s no shame in that. He’s…we’re…” she fumbles for her words. “How are we meant to be together if he won’t let me in?” 

Cole is silent for a long time, and Vieva doesn’t mind it. The air is crisp and clear this high up, the wind whipping though her red hair and blowing it into her eyes. She smooths it back and watches Skyhold below her. Bull stops to speak to Varric and they both head to the tavern. Messengers come and go. Nobles and soldiers and refugees move around like ants, streaming from one place to the next. 

She’s almost managed to calm down when Cole speaks suddenly, making her jump. “Some doors need keys to open,” he says, staring up into the sky, head tipped back. “Some just need words.” 

Vieva arches an eyebrow. “Is that your way of telling me i should just talk to him?” she wants to know. 

“Lonely, tired, weak. Always so alone.” 

“Are those your thoughts or his?” 

Cole smiles. “Both, I think.” 

As always, speaking with Cole leaves her confused, but oddly clear headed, and she shakes her head and sets a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Cole. For listening. For helping.” 

“I want to help. Sometimes you’re the only one who lets me.” 

“Well, I’m a giver,” Vieva replies and gets to her feet. “Do me a favor?” 

“Yes.” 

“Distract Leliana for me? I’m sure she has some urgent matter that needs someone’s attention, but i think we could all use a bit of a break.” She turns to head down the stairs, but turns back because she knows it needs to be said. “With  _minimal_  chaos, please, Cole.” 

The boy smiles again and then is gone. 

Vieva continues on her way. She has a stubborn commander to find.


	2. This Is Enough

She knocks on his office door this time, figuring that if he  _truly_ doesn’t want to see her, she won’t force him to. She wants to respect his space and privacy, she really does, she’s just…worried.

So when she knocks twice with no response, she presses her ear against the door, listening. Usually, she can hear Cullen addressing whoever’s in his office at the time, or at least hear the sound of his boots on the floor as he paces (apparently he reads better when he’s moving because she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him read a report while sitting down), but now there’s just silence. 

Which has her  _really_ worried. 

Vieva thinks she’s justified in opening the door and poking her head in. She’s the Inquisitor, after all. She has the right. And she’s Cullen’s…whatever she is. So she doubly has the right. 

His desk is cluttered with papers, but the office seems otherwise empty, and Vieva steps in, frowning. She folds her arms and thinks of where else he could be. The tavern, maybe? If he was suddenly feeling better? Or perhaps gone to talk to Cassandra again, but no, Vieva is sure she saw Cassandra in the practice yard on her way up here. 

A creak and a muttered swear makes her look up, and she remembers that there’s more to Cullen’s office than just the office bits. 

She’s been up in Cullen’s sleeping area before, of course, has sat on his bed to read and hide from things when she needed a break and Cullen had to work, but she’s still wary about climbing up there now. What if he really doesn’t want to see her? What if they fight? What if, what if, what if. 

And honestly, it’s ridiculous. She’s the sodding Herald of Andraste, for crying out loud. She can handle this. 

So she climbs. 

Cullen is seated on his bed, armor piled in one corner, head bowed and in his hands, elbows on his knees. His hair is a mess, probably from running his fingers through it, back hunched over, and he looks smaller and more vulnerable than she’s ever seen him before. 

He doesn’t even appear to have noticed that she’s there, even though she wasn’t particularly quiet about climbing up the ladder. 

“Cullen?” she says softly, not wanting to startle him. 

He looks up sharply, and his eyes are bloodshot. “Inquis– Vieva.” he catches himself. “What are you doing here?” 

She arches an eyebrow. “You’re not serious, are you?” He just blinks at her, and she takes pity on him, crossing to the bed and sitting down next to him. “I was worried about you.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry to have–”

Vieva lifts a hand to cut him off. “Cullen. You don’t have anything to be sorry for, alright? I’m going to worry. It comes with the territory. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” Cullen says, but he doesn’t meet her gaze. She thinks he’s going to leave it at that, but then he droops even more and sighs heavily. “No, that isn’t true. I’m…today has been…hard.” 

Progress. “I noticed,” Vieva says. “I wanted to see if there was anything i could do. Anything you needed?” 

He turns his head to look at her, golden eyes hazy with pain. “I…if it isn’t too much trouble, would you…stay? It makes it easier if I have a distraction, but I don’t think I’m up to dealing with the troops right now.” 

His voice is soft, raspy, but still deep and it affects Vieva the way it always does. She scoots closer to him on the bed and smiles. “Of course. I can be very distracting. It’s one of my only talents, in fact.” 

The corners of Cullen’s mouth flicker upwards in a shadow of a smile, and it warms her to see it. “Now you’re being modest.”

“I’m not,” Vieva insists. She takes off her boots and moves on the bed until she’s sitting with her back to the headboard, a pillow in her lap. “Come here.” 

“Are you…” Cullen hesitates. It’s funny, really. she’s hardly ever seen him hesitate when it comes to battle or tactics or orders to be given. There, he’s firm and commanding, every inch the in charge leader of their forces. But with this, he seems to be on uneven footing, always second guessing, always unsure. 

“Cullen,” Vieva says. “Come here. You can consider it an order, if it makes it easier.” 

He looks down for a moment and then moves, arranging himself so that his head is in her lap. It takes him long seconds to relax, but eventually he does, his breathing evening out, the tension draining from him. 

They stay like that for a while, the silence wrapping around them. Vieva cards her fingers through Cullen’s hair and lets her mind drift, content to sit here as long as Cullen needs her to. 

She’s not sure how much time has passed when Cullen speaks again. “I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done to deserve you,” he murmurs, and she glances down at him. 

“Well,” she says. “It helps that you’re very handsome.” 


	3. Heavy is the Head

“Has anyone seen the Inquisitor today?” Cullen asked, frowning as he accepted a report from Leliana. The spymistress and Josephine exchanged looks. 

“Ah, no, Commander,” Josephine said, brows furrowed. “She hasn’t been seen all day. We assumed that she was…with you, but that is clearly not the case. Perhaps she went somewhere?” 

“I believe everyone is present and accounted for,” Leliana put in. “She wouldn’t go off on her own, would she?” 

And she wouldn’t go off without telling him. Cullen knew that. The two of them had an agreement that if she was going to walk into danger every other day, she was bloody well going to say goodbye to him before she left.

But then…things had been different lately. Ever since Adamant. Vieva had been quieter, more withdrawn, she woke just as many times in the night as he did these days, but always brushed him off with platitudes when he asked if she was alright. Something wasn’t right, he knew that much. 

“I’ll find her,” he said, turning to head down the stairs. 

He started in the tavern. Sometimes, when she was stressed, she drank with Bull and his Chargers or sat with Sera. Neither of them had seen her, though, and the frown between his brows grew more pronounced. 

“Oh dear,” Dorian said when their paths crossed. “You’ve that look on your face. How is the world ending this time?” 

Cullen rolled his eyes. “The same way as before. Have you seen the Inquisitor?” 

“I haven’t, no. Is something wrong?” 

He sighed, dragging fingers through his hair. “She hasn’t been herself lately, and I’m concerned,” Cullen admitted. Dorian and Vieva were friends, good friends, if talk was true. Perhaps he knew something.

“Well, walking into the Fade, choosing who has to stay behind and then being lauded for it does that to a person,” Dorian drawled. “What we faced there…” He shook his head. “Have you asked her about it?” 

“I…attempted to, but she…” 

“Is stubborn and ridiculous, yes, I know. Something to do with being in charge of this whole operation, I’d wager. You might ask Cole where she is,” Dorian suggested. “He seems to know these things.” 

It was a good idea, and Cullen turned to do just that and ended up nearly walking right into the boy, who had appeared behind him, seemingly from out of nowhere. “Maker’s breath,” he gasped. “Do you  _ever_  make noise?” 

“Sometimes,” Cole answered. “Scared. She’s scared. And tired. So tired, why me? Not the Maker, the  _creature_ , so much blood, so much. Is this justice? How can I know? Too much too much so much, I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t, never enough, too much, I  _can’t_.” 

“Sounds about right,” Dorian said, eyes wide. “Go to her, Commander. I think she needs you.” 

Cole’s odd way of speaking, as if he was reading someone’s mind, always unnerved Cullen, but now it was worse because if those were Vieva’s thoughts… He sighed. “Do you know where she is, Cole?” 

The boy nodded, lifting one hand and pointing to the top of one of the towers. “There. She’s alone. Will you help her? I’d try, but I don’t think I can.” 

“I’ll give it my best,” Cullen replied, and started climbing. 

* * *

 

The air at the very top of Skyhold was cold and bracing, but Vieva welcomed it. It was a nice change from how stifling everything felt down on the ground. She could see the people from her perch, moving about, carrying on as if something fundamental hadn’t changed. 

She’d lost track of how long she’d been up here. Since before breakfast, she knew that, and the midday bell had already rung. Her cheeks were slightly numb with the wind, and if her nose was a bit stuffy, well. She’d blame that on the cold and not on the fact that she’d been crying. 

They were probably looking for her. She  _was_  the Inquisitor, after all. There were meetings to hold, nobles to meet, decisions to make, criminals to judge, and the list went on and on. Just thinking about it made her chest tight, and Vieva closed her eyes and sighed. “Maker, what have I gotten myself into?” she murmured, and for the first time in a very long time, she wondered if he was even listening. 

As if in answer, the door to the tower creaked open. Vieva looked behind her, and there was Cullen, hair windswept, handsome as ever, tawny eyes heavy with concern. 

“There you are,” he said, hesitating for a second before stepping up next to her. “Are you alright?” 

Was she? Honestly, she didn’t know. 

Cullen seemed to take her silence as answer enough. “You know,” he said, looking off into the distance. “I once told you that if there was ever anything you needed of me, you only had to ask. I did mean that.” 

Vieva sighed again. “I know that, Cullen. But…I don’t think you can help me with this.” 

One leather gloved hand slid to cover her. “I could try. If you’d let me. There is something on your mind?” 

“I…” Maker, how did she even start? “It’s this, Cullen,” she said. “It’s all  _this.”_ She gestured around at Skyhold, the enormity of it. “It was fine when I believed I’d been chosen for this. That the Maker put this blighted thing on my hand and Andraste led me from the Fade to save everyone. To put things right. But that’s not what happened. I just. I happened to be there, and I grabbed that  _thing_ , and then–then Divine Justinia  _sacrificed_ herself so I could leave. So I could live, and–I am so  _tired_ of sacrifices, Cullen. I’m sick to death of them. And everyone, all of this is hinging on me to succeed. People go around calling me the Herald of Andraste, and I’m  _not._ I’m not. I’m just some mage who should be dead by all rights, and people think I can save the world, and it’s so, so much. All the time! Save this village, Inquisitor. Walk into the fucking  _Fade,_ Inquisitor. Choose who gets to rule the  _biggest power in Thedas_ , Inquisitor. Who lives or dies today, Inquisitor? On and on and on! And how am I supposed to know, Cullen?  _How?_  I make a decision, and it affects  _so many people._ And if it’s the wrong one, Cassandra gets that look on her face, or Solas starts preaching at me, and it’s quite literally impossible to please everyone, but they keep  _asking_ , and I keep  _trying_ , and I–” Her voice cracked, and she slumped against the stone she leaned against. “Who am I to be making all these choices?” 

Now that it was out of her, she felt exhausted. It had all been building since the moment she’d taken up the helm as Inquisitor, each new catastrophe and earth shaking decision stacking up on top of the others, hurtling her along her path from one catastrophe to the next. But Adamant had been the last straw. 

“You’re the Inquisitor,” Cullen said softly, and Vieva laughed, but it was without humor. 

“Yes, Cullen. Believe it or not, I had noticed that.” 

“Listen to me,” he said, reaching up and touching her cheek to make her look at him. “Whatever it is you thought you were doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m pretty sure it matters if I’m the Herald of sodding Andraste or not, Cullen!” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Cullen insisted. “Because sent by the Maker or not, you’re the one who’s done all these things. You were the one who stood against Corypheus at Haven. You were the one who saved the mages from Alexius. You were the one who saved the Wardens. You’re the reason we’re all here. Call it divine providence or a happy accident, but  _you,_ Vieva Trevelyan, did all those things. With your own power. The people may have followed you at first because they believed you were holy, but now they’ve seen what good you have done. What good you continue to do. You are…one of the strongest people I have ever met. You want this world to be a better place. And that’s why you’re the perfect person for the job.” 

Praise from Cullen always did make her feel warm inside. He had seen the worst of people–mages and templars alike, and when he told her she was doing well, she tended to believe it. But this…

“I’m just so…I don’t know. Worn out?” 

“Understandable. Sometimes I think we all forget that you’re only human.” He smiled and pulled her closer, and she leaned into his warmth, inhaling the scent of leather and metal and sweat that he usually carried with him. “I think a break is in order, don’t you? No one could argue that you deserve it.” 

Vieva nodded, tucking her face against his neck. “Can I hide in your bed for the rest of the day?” 

“Of course. I don’t know how I’ll get any work done, knowing you’re up there being soft and beautiful, but I’ve endured worse temptations.” 

She laughed at that and pressed a kiss to the warmth of his skin. “Thank you, Cullen. I…I needed to get that out of me. I needed to hear what you said.” 

A strong hand came up to stroke her hair. “Anything for you, my love,” Cullen replied. “I don’t…this is important, I know that. But I don’t want it to consume you. If I can help, I certainly want to.” 

She didn’t feel better, exactly, not yet, but it was certainly a start.


End file.
